Alone
by macgyvershe
Summary: Completed Story. John is at the middle of an assassination and kidnapping attempt. Is he all alone? The continuation of this story is in "How Sharper than a Serpents Tooth" which is up and in progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Alone**

John had the flat to himself. Sherlock had been called to the station and left his injured John at home. He'd sprained his ankle from a slip and fall. It wasn't a bad sprain. He was using his old cane, but it did make getting around a bit painful. Sherlock was being a complete mother hen. So it was nice to be alone, quiet and unfettered by Sherlock's constant attentions. With Sherlock it was feast or famine. That's the way it was with the worlds only consulting detective, John had to get his quiet when he could.

He'd finished his latest blog entry. Rubbing his tried eyes, thinking about what needed his attention next.

"Well, I don't think there is anything really urgent right now." John said sleepily. He was sitting on the couch, so he just set his notebook on the coffee table and lay down on the couch. Elevating his dodgy leg he decided a nap was a good use of his time.

He slept, longer than he had thought. For when he woke the sun had set outside. He sat up and reached to turn a lamp on. It clicked, but no light came on.

"Damn it all. I guess Mrs. Hudson's blown a fuse or forgot to add to her energy card."

Getting up from the couch he happened to look out the window. The busy street was unusually empty. The normal foot traffic was gone. All the lights as far as he could see were out.

"Maybe not a fuse, maybe a city main?" John was a bit more interested now. He went over to the coffee table and picked up his mobile. It showed no service. "Now, that's getting more than strange," John said pocketing the mobile.

"No mobile, no telly, no lights, what next?" John shook his head in consternation. "Guess the best thing to do is go out and find out what's about."

John shrugged on his jacket, closed the door to the flat and trundled down the stairs. He put his hand on the door knob and was thrown back by the force of electricity going through the knob and into his hand.

"Damn!" John shook his hand to get the feeling back in. He fast tracked up the stairs, into the flat and into his bedroom, feeling his way as he went. There in his bed side stand, he pulled the top door open and searched inside for his gun. Gone!

John pulled the door out further and making sure that he hadn't missed the gun. It wasn't there. "Oh my god, something terrible is happening."

Then there was a noise from 221C, the basement apartment. Someone was braking in through one of the windows.

"Okay, what now," he whispered to the darkness. He would have to stand his ground somewhere in the flat. He went out into the living room, more room there. He got a knife from the kitchen and took up vigil in Sherlock's chair, his pulse racing.

Someone was in the foyer. Now creeping up the stairs; they didn't step on the squeaky stair! John gripped the knife tightly; his eyes strained to see in the darkness.

"John?" A whispered inquiry had John letting out his held breath.

"Sherlock, what the hell is going on?"

Sherlock had a small flashlight pointed at the floor.

"John, we have to get out of here." There was urgency in his words. "Now!"

John immediately went into Sherlock's-in-charge mode.

"We're going out the basement," Sherlock whispered.

They went down the stairs, through the broken door in 221C. Sherlock had broken one of the windows that were at street level above, but where high up on the wall in the apartment.

Sherlock used his thick coated arm to clear more of the broken glass from the windowsill. He hefted himself up and through, then reached back down for John.

John discarded his cane and took Sherlock's hand, pushing himself up out the window. They crotched in the dark alley way filled with trash bins.

"All of London is on lockdown, John." Sherlock whispered as he examined the alley further.

"What?" John was shocked.

"Supposedly, terrorists have jammed mobile services and utilities are down. This all started in the area of Baker Street earlier this evening."

"Oh, my god, Sherlock, but wait a minute there was an electrical charge on the front door; it knocked me on my ass. How did that happen?"

"There was a petrol powered generator in the rear of the flat. I disengaged it so I could enter the basement flat. Someone was trying to keep you in the flat."

"This is all a trap, John, for me."

John was stunned.

"Who would take out all of London, making it look like a terrorist plot all to trap you, Sherlock?" John knew without thinking. "Moriarty, but he's dead, Sherlock."

"Apparently not dead enough, his power and destructive purpose live beyond the grave, John. We are going to have to move fast. I'm going to carry you. This won't be pleasant for you."

Sherlock stood placing John over his left shoulder. John doing his best to hang on as Sherlock moved as stealthily as he could carrying John down the darkened streets.

London without lights, no bustle of people on the streets, no rumble of cabs and buses; it was a concrete and glass monument to the small creatures that mankind truly were. It was beautiful and elegant and now darkly dangerous.

Then from around a corner a taxi careened at them; stopping just alongside the two men. Sherlock helped John into the cab, leaning in to talk to him.

"John, I've made provisions for this scenario. This driver is trusted and will take you to a safe house…"

"No, Sherlock we're staying together. I won't leave you!"

Sherlock shoved John further into the cab.

"John, I won't risk your life any further, there will be no discussion on this matter." Sherlock slammed the cab door shut and tapped on the cab exterior to signal the driver to go.

John was whisked away, screaming at the top of his lungs to be released.

Sherlock watched as the cab rounded another corner. He turned to walk in the opposite direction. He had not taken five steps when shots were fired. Sherlock turned back, running toward the sound of the shots. Turning the corner that the taxi had just taken, he found the taxi; both front tires blown, the driver riddled with bullets and the back of the cab empty except for a mobile device. A woman's face filled the screen. Her eyes were dark and short, dark hair framed her handsome face.

"Sherlock Holmes, I presume," the woman said. Her deeply sensual voice had a sharp snap to it.

"And you are?" Sherlock lifted the mobile to better see the screen.

"I am the nightmare that you've just found yourself in."

Tick*tick*tick*

John woke to find himself in a comfortable bed in what looked like an upscale bed and breakfast. His sprained ankle was elevated. He took a deep breath and tried to piece together what he remembered last. He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

"Where the hell are you, John Watson," John asked?

From his right a voice that sounded remarkably like Sherlock Holmes.

[S7] You are confined in suite 1220, Area 13 of the Smith building, London, UK.

"Who am I talking to?"

[S7] John Hamish Watson, This is computer unit S7 – programming prohibits further definition.

"Why do you sound like Sherlock Holmes?"

[S7] You are in a stressful situation and find this voice has a calming influence.

"If you only knew. Who owns the Smith building?"

[S7] Quardis Smith.

"And how are Quardis Smith and Jim Moriarty connected," John asked?

[S7] They were business associates.

"Good evening, John Watson." A short woman, with dark eyes and dark hair that was closely cropped to her head entered the room. She was dressed in Jacques Azagury, who didn't usually design women's business suits. "I see you've met S7. Detail patients vitals." She asked the computer.

In a more neutral voice the computer says: [Patients vitals are all within normal parameters.]

"What kind of business were you and Moriarty in?" John was extremely interested in this woman now.

"We were in every kind of filthy, dirty business, John," she smiled sinisterly. "May I call you John? I feel that we have a great deal in common."

"Yeah, you want to kill Sherlock and I'm interested in seeing him NOT dead." John said throwing his legs over the side of the bed and testing his weight on his sprained ankle.

"How does it feel to be the bait in my little trap?"

"He's not daff, you know, he won't be coming to your party."

"Unless he comes forward in twenty-four hours, you're dead. Seven, level 4 security, see that our patient gets anything he wants. I'll be back for him later."

Smith exits John's room leaving a cold chill in the air behind her.

"Seven, it's been a while since I've eaten can you get me some food?" John was famished.

[Sherlock's voice] Cornish game hen, red potatoes and wilted spinach with butter.

"How did you know that," John was totally baffled?

[Sherlock's voice] There is a tablet under the main control in your room.

John got up and hobbled up to the main control and found the tablet.

"What's this about?" John said to the room.

[Sherlock's voice] Open the tablet.

John did and there was a strange hum that filled the room.

"John, this is Sherlock. I've hacked into Smith's computer system and I'm working on taking it down. The tablet has just sent out a signal that will allow me to talk to you without anyone listening in. I need you to follow my instructions. I'm going to get you out of there all you have to do is take this tablet with you."

"Sherlock , I really do need some food."

"On its way, John."

"Thank god, Sherlock. I thought I was alone for sure." John took a deep breath. Food would make it all better and, of course, Sherlock would save him.

"You're not alone." Sherlock said his voice soothing and rock sure that John would be safe again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alone Chapter 2**

"How in the hell did you hack into her computer system, Sherlock? I had no idea you were an accomplished computer hacker?" John had finished his meal and was happy to be full once again.

"There are many things about me you don't know, John. We can discuss particulars later. We need to get you out of there and this isn't going to be an easy task. I can control the cameras, sensors, locks and entry ways, but I can't disguise you from here. I am working on ghosting images of the hallways making them look empty to observing eyes. How is your leg? Will you be able to walk some distance?"

"Ankle's still sore, but I think I can make it, Sherlock."

"I'm working on getting people inside; I don't want you to have to go too far without some assistance."

"Will you be coming, Sherlock?"

"Always, John, I will be there soon. Just for the moment I want you to stay where you are and play along with this Smith woman. Do not provoke her and give her as little information as you can."

"I understand Sherlock and the tablet?"

"Try to keep it with you, but if things get complicated, don't hesitate to give it up. I've loaded several games on it. Let her think that you are entertaining yourself."

"I've got it, Sherlock. Any time table as too when all hell breaks loose?" John was clam and the most capable man Sherlock had ever known.

"As soon as possible, John," Sherlock's voice was ever so slightly stressed.

[S7] Smith approaches.

"John, I have to stop speaking through the computer, but I will be listening. You are not alone, John. You are never alone, remember that."

"Computer," John said, "tea and biscuits for two."

[S7] Affirmative. Order received and processed.

John pulled the tablet into his lap and looked for the games. He had to make sure that his part of Sherlock's plan was working properly.

* * *

Sherlock had been up for days. His hacking abilities strained to the limit, putting huge demands on his homeless network, he was juggling so many balls he'd forgotten how many were in the air.

John was safe for a moment. Now he had to get a complete handle on this Smith woman, her connection to Moriarty and what the hell to do next.

The door down stairs opened and youthful footsteps jumped the stairs two or three at a time. The door to the flat came open and a young man in his early twenties came in. He was about John's height with sandy blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He was dressed in casual wear and wearing a determined smile. He was called Scout that wasn't his real name, just what he went by on the streets.

"What have you got for me, Scout?" Sherlock addressed his youthful lieutenant.

"Loads of things, Captain," Scout said. (Captain was a term of respect that all his lieutenants called Sherlock.) "The building that Watson is being held in is extremely high security but we've got people on the ground that are infiltrating it right now. We have broken into the outer areas and with your help we will be in to Dr. Watson within the next hour."

Sherlock's mobile rang. He was listening to John via his ear bud, so he used his opposite ear to hear the caller.

"Sherlock," he said answering the ring. "I'm clearly not in need of your proposals and excuses. You and your department owe me. I could go above your head and, oh yes, wait a minute I could have your head for the information that I know about your inner circle. So unless you are prepared to be fried in the fall out, thank you for your cooperation. I look forward to you following my every directive for the next 10 hours."

Scout looked at Sherlock questioningly.

"MI5, they will be taking the wet part of this recovery. The homeless network is just going to be doing the snatch and grab."

"Spooks owe you favors? You travel in mighty strange circles, Captain."

"They will be following my orders to the letter. Get us a cab, Scout. We are going to the Smith building to assist in the extraction."

"Aye, Captain." Scout brought his Sherlock provided mobile and speed dialed a cabbie that was part of Sherlock's network.

Sherlock grabbed his satellite enabled tablet and John's gun stowing them into a leather man bag which he slung over his shoulder. They exited the flat and found their cab waiting for them on the corner.

"Captain, you looked tired. You sure you don't want to sit this one out?""Scout, John is in there. From the data I've found on the woman, Quardis Smith, she is even more venomous than Moriarty. If Moriarty was a spider, this woman is the Queen of all Black Widows."

They stepped into their cab and it sped through the streets of London. Hell bent for the Smith building. The night sky began to rain and as they turned a corner to enter the buildings underground parking lot, shots rang out as one of the cabs tires exploded. The cab careened into the building, smashing on impact.

"Oh my, said the spider to the fly. Oh my," Quardis Smith watched as her men looked for survivors of the crash. "Oh my, Sherlock Holmes."

"No one here, Smith," one of her men yelled to her. "No one at all."


	3. Chapter 3

**Alone Chapter 3**

John had just been served his tea and biscuits when Smith came into the room.

"Tea?" John held up a full cup and saucer to his captor. "I'm not sure how fresh the biscuits are but then I have little control over that."

Smith took the offered tea.

"John, dear John, your friend is attempting a rescue. Did you know about that?"

"I'm pretty much sequestered here, if you haven't noticed. How would I know anything?"

Smith was smaller than John and like Moriarty there was something cold and dead about her dark eyes. Her smile was oily, without a hint of true friendliness.

John felt his flesh crawl as she sat next to him on the bed, the tablet between them. She was in his personal space and she loved making him feel uncomfortable.

"Moriarty said you were like Siamese twins joined at the heart." She laughs at her own little joke. "How does it feel to have taken down the world's only consulting criminal? He was something magnificent wasn't he?"

"I dunno the only times I met him he was trying to blow me up or pretending he was Rich Brook; a persona that turned out to be totally fraudulent."

"I can see why Holmes fancies you, John. You are uncommonly brave, but then it's probably in your DNA, not only a military background, but from a long line of highly decorated military officers. For Queen and country and now for Sherlock Holmes; you are a man of grand loyalties, John Watson."

"You know quite a bit about me. If you know anything at all about Sherlock, you know he's a madman who doesn't suffer criminally inclined fools." John caught himself up. Sherlock had told him not to antagonize Smith. She was pushing his buttons. Be charming, John, be very charming. "So what are our plans for this evening, Smith?"

"Please call me Quardis, John. I think a little picnic would be nice on a rainy night like tonight, don't you?"

"I'm not really going to be much fun in the rain with a sprained ankle, Quardis." John didn't know if the rescue attempt was happening now or was this more of Smiths' subterfuge?

* * *

Sherlock and Scout were in the Smith building. Scout was one of Sherlock's young homeless lieutenants. He was someone Sherlock trusted and he had worked well with his idol before on other cases.

The MI5 men were rankling at being told what to do by a civilian and even more so by a young man who appeared to be barely in his twenties. Just what the hell was upper management thinking of putting Holmes in charge of anything. Yes, he'd helped in a vast array of intel operations and yes, he was great at 'decoding' the tangled web that was international maelstrom of information the sometimes only he had the ability to decipher. He was a walking, talking computer chip that everyone had to get an appointment to get access to, but handle a dangerous retrieval op. No way.

"Did you NOT get the memo from your superiors?" Sherlock was going to be livid in a moment. Sherlock did not like to use MI5 people in the first place. His homeless network was great at doing what he needed to be done. There were people from all walks of life in his network and he utilized them whenever he could. There were going to be fire fights in this invasion into Smith's building. MI5 would be the best thing to put between Smith's people and his own.

"We've got the building plans; we've scoped the place out, my people are already inside." Scout put as much authority in his voice as he could muster. "We are going to proceed with or without you. Without your assistance there will be blood spilt, my people are totally unarmed."

"And I assure you that I will personally make it my duty to inform the press that MI5 knew of this event before hand and let the violence occur without lifting a finger. You, your superiors and your entire organization will suffer from a publicity meltdown that will make the country wonder if we really need such an incompetent organization in charge of things." Sherlock looked at 'Adam', the MI5 leader, with a glacial glare that would have re-frozen the entire planet 12 times.

Adam examined Holmes critically, gave a sigh and buckled into to do his job albeit with much concern on his part about interfacing with untrained civilians.

The MI5 agents entered the building at strategic points that Sherlock had predetermined. They did have a warrant and made nice-nice with Smith's people initially. So they did enter peaceably but things went south fast as the word got out that they were looking for John. The agents started to flush Smith's people out floor by floor, blocking any exit of the building from all the floors above thirteen. No one was coming down to interfere with the rescue. The homeless were already inside waiting for the all clear, but the agents never saw a single one. Sherlock had his people scour the interior gathering intel that he requested. Sherlock wanted information as well as John back and his people would have no qualms about getting it for him; whereas MI5 would have not wanted to share any intelligence gathered and neither was Sherlock. Onward to the 13th floor and bringing John home; Sherlock's plans were carried out to the letter. There was minimal damage to anyone of concern and the entire project proceeded. Adam and his people were quietly flabbergasted. No one had thought it could be pulled off, but they hadn't reckoned with Sherlock Holmes. You didn't go against him lightly; he was the devil in everyone's details. The agents reached the 13th floor as Sherlock's people were already exiting. Their respective jobs completed, it was all over but the celebratory party.

* * *

John was not in a good place. Quardis Smith sat next to him as she had put the very important tablet on a nearby table. She was getting very close, too close and she was putting out a vibe. _Oh no, _John thought_, is she being seductive? Maybe you put on too much charm, John, for god's sake. You don't want to end up in bed with the black widow!_

You can be quite provocative and daring when you want to, John. I've heard good things about your sexual prowess too. What does one have to do to get the good Dr. John Watson to show a girl a good time?"

"Releasing me from your prison would be a nice start," John said rather sarcastically.

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd want to get out of here right now, but if that will make you feel better, by all means; you have the door."

_What the hell did she mean by that_, John thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Alone Chapter 4

John, faking a really bad sprained ankle, got up and gingerly hopped to the door. He opens it to find an immaculate mud room. The mud room door opens out onto a large solar room, lit with subdued lighting, it is comfortable and warm, but outside the rain is coming down in torrents. This was a bed and breakfast somewhere in the world. John has no idea where he was. He could leave the comforts of the solar room, but where was he? Where would he go in a down pour that was rather nasty?

John felt Quardis coming up behind him and he held firmly to the door jam. How could Sherlock have been played so hard?

* * *

'Adam', the MI5 agent was beyond angry.

"We have searched this entire twenty story building and Dr. Watson is nowhere to be found. Do you know the amount of paperwork and reports that I'm going to have to generate to explain away this fiasco?"

"Not my problem," Sherlock said into his face then turned and strode away as if he had some place to go.

Just outside the building, Scout had a cab waiting for Sherlock.

"The ear bud has gone silent, Scout. No further word from John."

"She copped us good, didn't she, Capt'n," Scout was glad that the insertion had gone well, but as frustrated as Sherlock was about not finding John.

"Yes, Scout. She is a pretty slippery fish, this one, but she didn't count on us gathering info while we were there."

"Shouldn't you be getting some rest?" Scout knew his mentor and hero was running on empty after being up for so many days. "I can stay at the flat and guard while you sleep."

"Admirable, Scout, I think that would be a good idea." Sherlock took a deep breath and sat back into the cab seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Have all the information gathered brought to the flat."

"Done, Capt'n," Scout knew how Sherlock worked and tried like hell to keep in step.

At the flat there were boxes of 'collected items' and Sherlock avoided it all, not wanting to tempt himself into going through them just yet; straight away to bed for him. Scout locked down the house, made sure Mrs. Hudson was safe and snug and then took up residence in Sherlock's flat. His senses tuned to hear anything out of the ordinary as he looked through the boxes and ordered the items as best he could for Sherlock. Scout and his Homeless network guarded the flat as Sherlock slept. Nothing would go beyond their sight. Nothing and no one.

Four hours exactly and Scout heard Sherlock up and showering.

"Tea and biscuits ready, Capt'n." Scout was ready for Sherlock. They maneuvered through the mountains of information. It was going to be a long, what was it; night? And still no word from John. Had his tablet been taken from him?

How the hell had she known that Sherlock had hacked into her computer system? She must have caught the hack and countered it with misinformation. Slippery, yes she was slippery, but not above being caught in a net of Sherlock's making.

John went back into his room. Going out into weather like this was never going to work for him. Quardis followed him back in.

"It is late, I'm feeling rather tired," John commented hoping Quardis would take the hint.

"Then I shall give you some space." She said as she ran her fingers over John's hair and down to caress his face as she gazed into his midnight blue eyes.

John didn't flinch. Inside, he struggled not to shutter at her attempts at intimacy. He turned and moved back to the bed. The tablet still lay where he had left it. Sitting on the bed he pushed it under his pillow.

"You said you were offering me my freedom, but an offer that can't be taken isn't really an offer now, is it?"

Her wicked smile returned. She was playing John just as she had played Sherlock.

"You speak your mind, I like that about you. Brave, outspoken, maybe I should keep you. Moriarty said that ordinary people make such great pets. How would you like going from being Holmes's pet to being mine?"

"Moriarty was an insane maniac and I'm not Sherlock's pet. We are equals, friends, something that I doubt you would know anything about. You're as twisted and malignant as Moriarty, you could be twins. You're out of your league. Sherlock's on to your little games. You may have outsmarted him once, but he's no fool. He'll get you in the end, whether I live or die. He will win."

Quardis came forward and backhanded John so hard he was thrown back against the bed.

"No one outsmarts me. No one!" Her dark, dead eyes were unreadable. The wicked smile became a vicious predatory look.

_John, damn it you've gone too far_. John thought to himself. _Don't push her past her point of no return. You don't want Sherlock to find you dead because you couldn't keep your mouth shut._

John sat up and wiped a small trickle of blood from his busted lip. The tension in the air was acute, what would she do now? John took a deep breath, kept eye contact with her. He could see the pulse at her carotid artery pumping hard. Any moment now, would she do her worst?

* * *

Sherlock was opening computer doors and ransacking information at Smith's network. He was working on getting her servers under his control and back-dooring any place he wanted to enter at any time now or in the future. Everything had to be checked and double checked before he moved forward.

His homeless network was now armed with Sherlock provided mobile phones. [Those corporate clients had endlessly deep pockets.] So patch captains each had one or more mobiles depending on how big their patch was. The homeless network was more vibrant than ever. Information flowed and the net was closing in on Smith.

Scout was doing perimeter checks around the area. Making sure Mrs. Hudson had everything she needed and was okay. Sherlock was more and more concerned about his growing 'family' of people who he respected and cared for. Never again would he allow John or anyone else to become a victim of fate and fall into the hands of dangerous people.

Sherlock was finally getting a good grip on Smith's entire empire when his texting ringtone chimed.

{text: I think we need to talk. QS}

Sherlock lifted the mobile and read the screen, then closed his eyes for just a second. Was this

bad news?


	5. Chapter 5

**Alone Chpt 5**

Sherlock replied.

{text: When, were—soonest—Watson must be in attendance}

{text: tonight, 10pm Emperor's hall}

Sherlock didn't reply. Quardis knew that he would come, no matter what. John's life was all that mattered now. How to prepare for the totally unexpected? Quardis and Sherlock had been dancing around for some time now. It was imperative that Sherlock get the upper hand.

Sherlock logged onto a highly sophisticated and utterly secretive web site that didn't exist, Serpent's Tooth. He signs in as Lord Digital Death. Sherlock not only has his homeless network. He also has his digital network of international hackers, who work with him tirelessly. His relationship with this group is not their leader, but as the instigator of many of their varied missions to dispatch power when it is no longer in service of the many.

Lord Digital Death: possible mole in play. Compartmentalize info. Bring protocol 221z up and running. How is 'spoof' progress?

Server Cylindrical: 'spoof' switchover at your command. Power surge completed 0800 hours yesterday. Good luck, Lord Digital Death. Orders received and initiated immediately. Mole for dinner with tea.

Sherlock knew that if there was a mole in his computer organization that they would be found quickly. No one tolerated betrayers within their midst. The mole was quite literally going to be devoured ASAP. Sherlock's Serpent's Tooth wasn't something that he'd yet shared with John. Besides being completely clandestine, illegal and unethical, it was probably something John wouldn't want to know about; plausible deniability.

His computer team had set up a 'spoof'; they had infiltrated Smith's servers. Her operations were too large to take down in pieces. So the 'spoof' option had seemed the best. During a faked power surge the entire system had been mirrored into the Serpent's Tooth servers, much easier to do, and an identical site was now showing on Smith's system, but this spoof site was totally under the control of Serpent's Tooth. At the command the entire system could be blown. Taking all data and resources out and not allow reconstruction because all back-up and redundant information would be utterly flashed out of existence, but still in Serpents Tooth's. This would give Sherlock the upper and only hand.

That gave him confidence going in, but there had to be contingency plans. How was John doing now? He couldn't give himself the time to think about that, about John. Focusing on the meeting place was his best option right now.

He pulled up the plans for the Emperors' Hall. A relatively small deserted space that was no longer in use. Why there? Why is she comfortable on a stage?

*tick*tick*tick*

Left alone to nurse his split lip and the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw, John is glad to be rid of Smith, she had a right cross to be reckoned with. Not too much damage considering the maniacal female had been raging. Why had she been raging?

He remembered saying:

"_Moriarty was an insane maniac and I'm not Sherlock's pet. We are equals, friends, something that I doubt you would know anything about. You're as twisted and malignant as Moriarty, you could be twins. You're out of your league. Sherlock's on to your little games. You may have outsmarted him once, but he's no fool. He'll get you in the end, whether I live or die. He will win."_

Something in there was a bitter truth for Smith. Something that quite possibly Sherlock could use against her.

Pulling the tablet out from under the pillow he sat with it in his lap. Should he chance trying to contact Sherlock? What the hell, he was the captive of a madwoman; most likely he was destined to die at her hands. He had to do whatever he could help save Sherlock.

"Sherlock," he spoke to the tablet after setting the voice mode back on. "Sherlock, are you there."

"John!" Sherlock's enthusiastic voice came to him.

"I'm sure that Smith has compromised the computer connection, Sherlock. There is something that I need to tell you; very important." John rushed to tell Sherlock what had happened and what he had said.

"Thank you, John. I will look into it. It is so good to hear from you. Are you okay? I will be seeing you tonight, she has set up a meeting and I will do whatever is necessary to free you."

"Thank you, Sherlock. I'm okay." John didn't know what else to say. "Listen, you need to work on your plans. I know you have many. I will see you tonight."

Sherlock broke the connection and John felt a little broken inside too. Seeing Sherlock was his one wish.

*tick*tick*tick*tick*

Sherlock readied himself for the evening meeting. He researched the information that John had given him. Scout, his young homeless lieutenant was waiting with a trusted cabbie. They drove toward the hall. Scout stayed with the cabbie and they circled the structure staying out of reach of prying eyes, but within easy reach if Sherlock needed them.

Sherlock entered, the outer doors conveniently unlocked. Inside the empty hall he found John sitting in a chair on the small minimalist stage.

"Sherlock!" John stood a huge smile on his face; his bruised and swollen face.

"She will pay for his, John." Sherlock commented as he came close. He gripped John by the arms and then took him into a hug.

"So more than just friends are we? Smith slithered out of the darkness. Her black leather outfit impressively touched with red piping. She literally was to die for. Her beauty tainted by her toxic soul.

"Let's stop with playing these little games, shall we. Just what is it you want Smith?" Sherlock pushed John behind him as he looked at the megalomaniac on stage dressed in couture leathers.

"I want you bloodied and broken at my feet. I want to see you die by my hand." Quardis pulled two wicked looking knives from behind her back.

"Ah, I see. I took the information you provided me with John and found some interesting facts. Quardis Smith was more than an associate of Moriarty's, much more."

The bitch spat at Sherlock.

"See, John, we've struck a raw nerve. She was his lover…a very sick lover."

Quardis came forward her knives at the ready.

Sherlock stood between her and John. "They were lovers and half brother and sister. Same mother different fathers."

"So that's why, when I said they could be twins, I almost had it right." John said. "That is pretty damn sick, even for Moriarty."

She threw the damn knives. At John. Sherlock twisted to push John out of the knives pathways; one missed the other lodged in Sherlock's right upper arm.

Smith's people advanced in to give her cover. Mycroft's people came in behind John and Sherlock. It was going to be a right good row. John dragged Sherlock as far away from the center of things as he could manage.

"Argyle," Sherlock said to no one in particular.

"What's that?" John asked as they jumped for cover behind layers of ancient metal theater chairs.

"A word to end Smith's empire and hopefully end her," Sherlock said with conviction as he showed a small microphone on his great coat.

"You will tell me who you were talking to? Sherlock don't touch that knife," John said, as he was looking about for something to bind the wound.

But Sherlock had already pulled it free and was trying to stanch the blood flow.

"Sherlock, will you ever learn to listen to me?"

The gunfire had ended and there was a mob-up team working on the scene to well, mob-up.

"John, I always listen to you. Always. Taking your advice is another matter. I'm not walking round with a knife sticking out of me."

"Well, I guess having Mycroft for a brother does have its perks?" John said as he applied direct pressure to the wound.

"Mr. Holmes, we have an ambulance waiting for you outside." A man in black ops military garb notified him.

"And Smith?" Sherlock asked warily, his eyes laser sharp upon the man.

"We believe she was injured in the skirmish, but she has not been detained." The man said with growing apprehension.

"She has not been detained," Sherlock mimicked the soldier and scowled at the same time. "Rest assured that Mycroft will be informed of this cock-up as soon as I can speed dial his number."

"And with that I think we need to get you to hospital, Sherlock, before you bleed all over this nice black op gentleman who already knows he's in for a shite storm." John said as he pulled Sherlock toward the exit. "My evening has been pretty wretched Sherlock, how about filling me in on what the hell's been going on?"

Thanks dear reader for you readership.

If you want to continue this storyline:

How Sharper than a Serpents tooth is it to have a thankless child!

Will be the next installment.


End file.
